The dust from the shattered celestial iron chains still hung in the frozen star cavern, drifting like silver sand over the dark granite platform. The old master gracefully floated down to the cold floor, but the moment his boots touched the stone, his knees buckled violently.
Five centuries of continuous soul-drain under the Nine Desolations Matrix had left his physical body in a completely frail, emaciated state, his skin tightly clinging to his bones, and his deep-purple galaxy eyes flickering with a faint, exhausted light. He was far too weak to channel a single thread of his primordial alchemical energy, his breathing ragged and thin in the cold air.
